


All of the tinkerbell lights

by LVB



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5549159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LVB/pseuds/LVB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione needs to finish up her Christmas shopping but Ron has a surprise waiting for her instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of the tinkerbell lights

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Antigoni for the Tumblr Romione Secret Santa 2015 Exchange. 
> 
> Disclaimer: JK is the goddess and I'm an adult who should know better :)
> 
> T for a swear word-- this is Ron, after all!

 

Hermione’s bones were chilled as she pulled her scarf tighter around her. Usually her Christmas shopping was finished weeks in advance, but with a case load that never seemed to lighten, additional study for her night course and trying to fit in some semblance of normalcy with her live-in boyfriend, it had fallen by the wayside.

She had braved the Muggle streets and settled on some new books for her parents and a few trinkets for Arthur. Diagon Alley had dedicated itself in the week before Christmas to opening late into the evening, so this final Thursday before Christmas seemed the perfect time for her to slip in and finish up her ‘wizarding’ list.

The cold was bitter but she couldn’t fault the view of the street. Snow had fallen steadily over the past week and it scattered the ground and rested gently on rooftops. Magic had kept it from settling on important pathways and out of shopfronts so it looked almost manicured in its perfection. A few stores had enchanted their Christmas decorations so they danced and flew and skated around her as she passed each window display. There were lights on every corner and someone had asked the carollers to congregate in front of their particular shop. Their voices, however, carried with every step Hermione took.

She grinned as she passed the display of broomsticks on her left. She had ordered Ron’s weeks ago and it was already wrapped, tucked behind her memory boxes that she kept in their shared wardrobe. The last time he had taken his out at the Burrow, on Victoire’s first birthday celebrations, it had virtually crumbled under his vigorous use. He had fallen off--sworn very loudly, and then Vanished the thing in a fit of rage. The whole performance had left the Weasleys in fits of laughter, Molly the one exception.

Hermione had tried to comfort him, _“honestly Ron, it’s just a broom!”—_ to no avail. She hoped her gift this year would correct her thoughtlessness on the issue. _“You don’t_ understand _, Hermione,”_ he had moaned and to his credit, he was absolutely correct. With his own busy work schedule, he hadn’t the time to go flying about on a whim anyway.  But, she loved the busy and sometimes unreasonable idiot, so she had picked out the perfect one just for him. With Ron’s gift out of the way, picking up the others was easy if not a little time consuming.

She had just purchased Harry, Ginny and George’s presents and she knew if she didn’t pop into _Wheezes_ , she would never hear the end of it at Christmas dinner. It was down at the end of the street. She was positive George would be working tonight, and probably too busy to chat, which was fine with Hermione. She pulled her thick jacket across her again, trying to resist casting a heating charm just to get her down the street a little.

It was then that an arm snaked around her.

“Looks like you could use a bit of warmth. Lucky for you, I know of a bloke that runs pretty hot when you’re around.”

Hermione gently pushed him as a gentle scold. “I’m not sure my boyfriend would appreciate that type of innuendo. But seeing as he’s _supposed_ to be working, I might just take you up on that offer.”

Ron grinned and placed a kiss on her head. “Got off early. Robards is a bloody sap for Christmas. He even gave us all a recipe for eggnog with our Christmas bonus. And I remembered that you said you had some shopping to finish up, so—“

He grabbed her bag and peered inside. Hermione promptly snatched it back. “Get out of it! What if I had your present inside there? It wouldn’t kill you to be surprised every now and then, you know?”

Anyone else would have missed it, but Hermione was used to every feature on her boyfriend’s body so she noticed the slight blush that played across his freckled cheeks. “You, Hermione Granger, would never leave buying my present so late. Don’t even try it.”

She didn’t dignify his answer with a response. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see. Anyway, seeing as you’re here, I was just popping into the shop to say hello to George. Then we can head home—I wasn’t expecting you home so early, maybe we can pick up some takeway and settle in early?”

Ron smiled broadly. “Fu-err, screw George. I actually had something else in mind. I thought we could take a stroll and check out the lights? I know a place where both the Muggles and the wizards have some pretty bloody spectacular setups. I'll even carry your bags. And no peeking, I promise.”

Hermione beamed. A romantic stroll with her boyfriend on a magical, snowy Christmas-time evening? “That sounds absolutely wonderful, Ron.” Ron gallantly took the bags from her hands and linked arms with her. “Where are we going?”

Ron grinned. “Not far. I heard if we turn left and keep going, we’ll end up at the lights.”

Hermione was happy to oblige. Her evening had already improved ten-fold. Ron opened his free arm and she happily snuggled into it, breathing in the scent of his robes. He kissed the top of her beanie, and she sighed in content. It had been days since she and Ron had spent any real time together. They had been warned that the first year on the job was a difficult one—new Aurors were on-call at a moment’s notice, and Ron’s first year of training had been practically waived because of the sheer amount of recruits needed to fill their ranks after the Battle of Hogwarts.

At least twice this week, he had been summoned out of their bed late at night only to return as Hermione rushed out the door to the Ministry of a morning. She only hoped that the last remnants of the dark wizards decided to lay low for Christmas and let them enjoy some peace and quiet over the holiday season.

“I’m surprised Robards let you go,” Hermione confessed as the sounds of their boots hitting the snowy path punctuated her words. “That man is a tyrant.”

Ron shrugged. “He’s not all that bad. It’s a bloody hard job. Come on, even Nev likes him.”

Hermione sighed loudly. “Neville doesn’t have a girlfriend whose sleep and… _private time_ is constantly interrupted,” she pointed out. “I just…I would like to see you more often, is all. I miss you.”

Ron stopped them in the middle of the pathway. The sounds of Diagon Alley had disappeared in the short time they had been walking towards the lights. The snow illuminated their pathway still and Hermione could see the glimmer of the combined magic of the Muggle and wizard lights in the distance. There were a few trees lining their path—strange for what was essentially the middle of London—and something bright was circling in the distance. She looked back down the path they had taken, almost confused.

“I know right now my hours are bloody ridiculous,” Ron acquiesced. Hermione didn’t bother scolding his language. “But it won’t be like this forever, y’know. Soon I’ll be home for dinner and out the door with you in the morning.” It was a magnificent thought. Then, his hands came up to cup her face and he leaned down and kissed her. Her body buzzed in the moonlight. It was that same electric feeling as the first time.

She pulled away from him slowly, enjoying the quiet moment. She reached for his free hand again and they continued along the path. “Ron, I have been to Diagon Alley enough times. I’ve never seen this path before,” she said, curiosity and concern getting the better of her.

“Oh come on, Hermione. Where’s your sense of adventure?” he teased.

“I think I left it somewhere in the Forest of Dean,” she replied dryly.

“Only a few more steps. It’ll be worth it,” he promised. They walked silently for another two minutes until they came across the clearing. Hermione gasped as she stepped inside, trees framing the hundreds of floating candles in front of her. As promised, lights of varying shapes, colours and intensity lay beyond the clearing, proclaiming stars and Santas, crosses and holly, competing with the very stars themselves.

It left her almost breathless.

The chill had left her now.

“Oh Ron,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from the beauty and the sparkle. From the magic.

“D’you like it?”

She turned to face him, the candlelight sweeping over each and every precious freckle on his face. “It’s beautiful,” she promised him and fixed her gaze on the floating candles. “How did you—“

And when she turned back to look at him, he wasn’t there. “Ron?”

Instead, he had placed her bags at the edge of the trees. And he himself was standing in the middle of the clearing, his wand at the ready. The lights descended slowly as he quietly commanded them to move. He cleared his throat. “Robards let me out earlier than when I found you,” he offered as an explanation. “I remember—from Hogwarts. How fascinated you were. I’d seen the bloody things bob up and down every second day, but not you. You had done magic before. You were even bloody good at it, but you looked at them like they were magic. Real magic.”

And then he dropped down to one knee. “Hermione, that’s how I look at you.”

Her hands flew to her mouth as she finally understood what was happening. The lights, the candles. Ron flicked his wand and, along with some magical words of encouragement, he opened his hand and there was the real light.

“Ron?” she whispered, walking up to his outstretched hand.

He smiled at her and Hermione swore her heart skipped a beat. “I love you. And I know we’re young and busy and all the bloody rest of it, but Dad told me that I’d _know_ , y’know? And I do. I know. I want to see you and your messy hair in the mornings, I want you to have a go at me for leaving my knickers and towels on the floor—“, he grinned, “to try and hide my brand new Firebolt in a place where you think I won’t look for _bloody weeks_ even though you hate flying and Quidditch and think I’m a bloody idiot for breaking my old one—“

“Yes,” Hermione said quietly.

“And I know that I’ll be on call for years to come and my job is dangerous, but Hermione, life is too short—“

“Ron,” she said a little more loudly. “I’m saying yes.”

“Hermione Granger, will you--?”

Instead of answering this time, she leant down and kissed him eagerly. “I already said yes,” she breathed as he broke off the kiss and motioned for her to move her finger into place. “Of course it’s _yes_.”

She wasn’t sure if it was magic or not, but the ring slid onto her finger perfectly, bouncing off the halo of candles that still hung around them, almost humming with their own sense of celebration. “Ow,” Ron moaned as he stood up, brushing some dirt off his knee. “The ground is harder than I expected.” He caught a glimpse of Hermione’s face, her eyes tearing up as she looked at him.

“I can’t believe you planned all of this. When did you have the time? How--? And I can’t believe you found my present, I tried so hard—.“ She was starting to cry in earnest now.

“Oi,” Ron said, pulling her close. “Don’t cry! This is supposed to be a happy moment! Fuck, Mum’s gonna kill me…”

She smiled through her tears. “I’m sorry. Happy tears. They are happy tears.” She reached up for him and leaned into another kiss, pulling away after a minute.

He looked up at the lights and back at Hermione, who hadn’t taken her eyes off him. Her eyes were full of hope and promise. And something else.

He recognised the look.

Like _he_ was magic.

She held out her hand, her ring sparkling more than he had anticipated. And with a flick of her own wand, each of the candles slowly descended, falling into line. One by one, they floated and illuminated the path in front of them.

“Come on,” she breathed, gently tugging at his hand. “I’ve found my sense of adventure. Let’s follow the lights.”

And hand in hand, they did.


End file.
